


Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester

by frecklesandwings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Universe, Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Hiatus, Season/Series 12 Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklesandwings/pseuds/frecklesandwings
Summary: Dean may be locked away in a cell, but Cas won't let him spend Christmas alone.





	

Castiel can still reach people through their dreams. He hasn’t done it in a while, mostly because he doesn’t have that many people to reach. The one he enjoys talking to the most is thankfully, more often than not, only a phone call away. But it’s not like that these days, with Dean locked up somewhere unknown. It’s been over six weeks and all Cas gets are random bursts of longing and prayers that he can’t respond to. It aches, and what’s worse is that it’s December, and the streets of Kansas are brightening up with christmas trees and lights and people walking hand and hand and pointing to the best presents in the windows. It’s supposed to be a happy month.  
It’s only when a loneliness worse than usual hits him, the night of Christmas Eve, that he thinks of reaching Dean through his dreams. He had decided against it before, fearing that seeing him, even for a little while, without being able to bring him home would make the absence even worse.  
He lays down in his bunker room, smiling at the familiarity of Dean’s things scattered around everywhere. And then he retires into the back of his mind, following a pattern that he feared he had forgotten, climbing to that longing that was always feebly there, like the background of everything. 

When he finds Dean, he finds him in the bunker’s kitchen, gearing up a christmas tree. Guess he was thinking of Christmas as well.

“Hello Dean,” he says, glad to be able to utter those words again after so long. 

Dean gives him a weird side-aways look.

“Is it really you or am I just dreaming you?” 

“It’s me,” Cas replies with a gesture that is supposed to be a sort of here I am. 

“Popping around in my dreams again, uh?” Dean smiles. “That’s good. I missed you.” 

Dean looks tired, worn-out. 

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” Cas starts, feeling a grip build in his throat. “I’m working with your mum but wherever they’re keeping you is...”

“Off the radar, yeah.” Dean shrugs. “Don’t sweat it. I know you’re probably being all angsty in the bunker but this really isn’t your fault.” 

Cas huffs out a bitter laugh. Not really the way he sees it. 

“Anyway, it’s almost Christmas out there right?”

“Only a few hours away,” Cas confirms. 

“Good. It’s probably the right time to give you this then,” Dean says, puling out a little wrapped box from his pocket. 

“How did you-” Cas starts, but Dean winks and he seems so radiant that he’s short of words for a moment.

“Hey, it’s my dream after all.” 

Cas takes the little box and carefully unwraps it: there is a tiny wooden angel inside, the ones that usually end up on top of Christmas trees. 

“Couldn’t help but seeing the resemblance there,” Dean teases him and Cas can’t hold back a sincere smile.

“Want to do the honour?” Dean adds pointing to the half-decorated tree behind him. So Cas does and once the angel is put in place he steps back to admire how real all of it seems. How nice it would be if it were.

“I think the guards are going to wake me up soon.”

Cas immediately stiffens, trying to accept the idea that it could all fade away in seconds. He turns to Dean, who is still there, solid, warm. His hand inevitably reaches for his face then, and Dean just closes his eyes and leans into it.  
They stay like that, until Dean does the very same thing and wraps both his hands on Cas’s cheeks. It’s agonising, because both their holds are growing tighter by the second, and Cas realises they both want to pull each other closer and just be done with it; and their faces do grow closer, one slow millimetre every second, and if he closes his eyes he can pretend it’s really happening and he’s really kissing Dean on Christmas Eve in the bunker’s kitchen with a shiny tree behind them.  
But then, just as quickly, he feels the warmth slip away from beneath his fingers.

“Merry Christmas, Dean Winchester,” he whispers, his eyes still closed because he can’t stand seeing it vanish. 

“Merry Christmas Cas,” is the last thing he hears before he’s back in the darkness of Dean’s empty room.  


End file.
